


ring ring moan

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Phone Sex, Sibling Incest, idk babys first porn what do i tag this as, phonesex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, a friendly incubuscentric conversation leads to a much friendlier moancentric conversation. Silly boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ring ring moan

**Author's Note:**

> basically my friend jordan was like 'yo i like wincest' and then was also like 'yo i like phonesex' so i read some wincest and i read some phonesex and i guess this happened yeah  
> for jordan!!! uwu
> 
> oh also this wasnt beta'd so forgive any blatantly obvious errors that my poor sexcrazed eyes have since missed

Dean’s right hand drums a taptaptapping beat on the wheel as he cruises through the countryside -- looking, always looking, for something or anything that’s out of place in the rural Pennsylvania boondocks. His eyes scan the road, easily picking up everything. In this case, everything is next to nothing in the sea that is the Pennsylvanian farmland. Soft slopes and winding gravel-sealed roads closed in by never-ending all natural fences of evergreens and oaks are the only things gracing the area around the Impala. Grey skies rolled angrily overhead as if to threaten Dean. Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, the skies opened up and down the rain poured, like a giant ‘fuck you with something splintery’ from heaven itself. What a sweet sentiment, God. A rusted-over truck with a shitty blue-green paintjob roars by and some drunken hicks do yell fuck you out their window, soaking their two dollar Mossy Oak hats. Pennsylvania.  
  
The incessant ringing of his phone was somehow almost lost in the sound of rain like the tribal tattoo of drums beating down on the hood and roof car. He passed into a thicket of pines just then that blocked out most of the rain and he just heard the last ring. Muttering something grim, Dean dug through the console next to his hand, reaching for his cell. He one-handedly flipped it open and dialed back after checking and confirming that the call had been Sam.  
  
“Yeah?” Sam answered in some sort of a questioning tone, as if it were possible for it to not be his brother, which Dean vaguely resented.  
  
“Hey Sam. What were you even calling ‘bout?”  
  
“Ah, it’s. Nothing.” His words were choppy like he was really unconvincingly lying through his teeth.  
  
“You’re really unconvincingly lying through your teeth.”  
  
“No, I’m not!”  
  
“You’re lying, bitch.”  
  
“Am not, jerk.”  
  
Dean smirked and silence prevailed for a fraction of a second, but then sighed himself back into a straight face. “No, man, in all one hundred percent seriousness, what did you want?”  
  
“I think I got a lead, but I’m not really sure how pressing the matter is.”  
  
“Well, why the hell didn’t you say so? How can it not really be pressing, anyway?” Dean snorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
Sam took on a bit more of a defensive tone suddenly. “It’s just not a normal case, even by our standards, alright? It’s like schoolteachers doing things.”  
  
“Teachers.” Sam made some sort of noise in agreement on the other line. “Doing things. Here I was thinking you said we had a lead on a case, not some teachers doing ‘things’.”  
  
“Dean, shut up and let me explain.” Sam sounded even more defensive now, and Dean was on the verge of driving right back to the hotel and hitting him for his dodginess. “By things I mean like sex things.”  
  
“So poor li’l Jimmy got touched funny on his first day of kindergarten by the eighty year old teacher. That shit happens all the time; what of it?”  
  
“Well, there’s been what could be called an outbreak. Don’t even tell me we can’t prove they’re related -- they definitely are. Not just teachers, either – anyone associated with jobs where groping isn’t really appropriate. There’ve been three elementary school teachers, two of which were coaches, a consulting engineer, and two nurses -- both male. In fact, all of them were guys.”  
  
“So, some guys are getting randy, and acting on their insatiable appetite. Sounds a lot like me, don’t it?”  
  
“They’re only going after family members, so no, not much like you.” Sam sounded like he was going to continue talking, but just stopped instead.  
  
“So we’re hunting some weird family-friendly nypho-demon, huh?”  
  
“More or less yeah. I’m thinking family-oriented incubus, to be honest.”  
  
“Haha, man, I bet you’re all about this type of thing.”  
  
“Uh, what? Sorry, I think maybe the rain is drowning you out, dude.”  
  
“I’m almost positive you heard me, Sammy. Like, what do you expect if you’re going to let me use your laptop?”  
  
There’s nothing but silence on the other line, and for a heartbreaking moment Dean thinks Sam’s hung up – thinks Sam finds his brother disgusting for just saying that. Then the silence is broken by a deep intake of breath.  
  
“Yeah? And what did you find, exactly? Clearly you were interested if you’d paid so much attention to it.”  
  
“Something or other about underage twinks getting skullfucked in public alleyways until they were choking on cum, but hey – maybe I misread it.” A little intake of breath is audible on Sam’s side of things, and then a shaky laugh. “Is that what you want?”  
  
“What? I’ve never done anything like that.” Sam answers quickly, but Dean knows that sounds in his voice: that soft, rough rasp that whimpers ‘if only’ in a voice that’s barely even a whisper-tone.  
  
“I didn’t ask if you’d done it, sweetheart, I asked if you wanted it, or are you going deaf?” A tiny, tiny noise comes from Sam, and Dean just has to laugh. “I’m sorry, brother, now I think your voice is the one getting lost in the rain.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”  
  
Dean went silent for a second too as he pulled off the road onto a gravel road that advertised the Buchanan State Forest. Rain dripped from towering evergreen trees sparkling with moisture onto the Impala like piney tears when he pulled into a parking space dictated by faded white lines.  
  
“Really? Who do you want to fuck your throat like that?” Dean swallows, licking his lips as he listens to Sam’s voice gradually getting a little bit rougher with every word.  
“You. At least I think yeah.”  
  
“Is that so? You want me to cum on your face and so far down your throat you can feel it sliding into your stomach? Is that what you want?” Dean’s voice is getting huskier now too, and he tucks his phone between shoulder and cheek to reach down and loosen the worn leather of his belt.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Be more eloquent. Tell me what you want, bitch.”  
  
Sam doesn’t say it, but even just that: bitch, is turning him on something stupid. “I, ah, want you. To fuck me, really hard, wherever you want.”  
  
“Details, Sammy. I said eloquent.”  
  
A little whimper, and the tiny wet sound of tongue on lips emanates from the tinny speaker of Dean’s phone as Sam tries to respond, and does so haltingly. “I want your, ahh, your cock. I want inside me – my mouth or ah, hands, or w-wherever. Yeah.”  
  
“Are you getting off? I, hh, bet you wish I were there to do it for you.” Dean smirked devilishly, though he himself was struggling to keep his composure at a one hundred percent steady level as he palmed his already-hard dick. “Man, you’re so loud, and I bet you aren’t even jacking yourself yet, just getting off on my voice.” And cue whimper from Sam, directly on time. “Just imagine we’re in bed,” and every few words, a small noise would come from Sam’s end as the heat gathered in his crotch from Dean’s words while he tried to keep his hands out his pants, “and I’ve got you facedown, ahh, and--”  
  
Sam cuts him off. “—you’re fucking m-my ass, right? And I’m moaning.”  
  
Dean snorts. “Eager whore, aren’t you? Yeah, ha, you wish I’d fuck you until you moaned like a blushing virgin, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes, yes yes yes.” Behind the mantra of gasps that is Sam’s voice, bedsprings can be heard, squealing against his weight as he settles down on the overly-sprung mattress and tosses the covers off the bed – onto the floor or something – while his hands can be vaguely heard, busily undoing belt and jeans. Dean’s smile gets shakier and bigger by the second as he struggles to keep his moans and other noises out of his voice.  
  
“What do you want, Sammy? What do you want?” Dean’s voice, on the other hand, gets a little bit louder and tiny factions huskier with every word.  
  
“I w-aahnt,” Sam doesn’t really continue, just panting lightly through the phone. In the motel, he’s lying on the bed; knees spread all awkward-angular, hand shoved down the front of his boxers. His face is flushed so sweet bright, eyes shut and chest heaving a bit more than usual.  
  
“Don’t you fuckin’ cum yet, eager bitch, just tell me what you, mm, want.” Dean flicks the phone onto speaker, setting it on the dashboard in front of him as he adjusts himself, lazily rubbing his cock.  
  
  
“You, Dean. Wh-aahn, why aren’t you here? Ah, I want you to f-fuck me, Dean, I wa-nt you.” Sam’s voice gets softer with every word and the whine of desperation in his voice can practically be tasted it’s so close to tangible. “I want you, you dick, in m-my mouth. I want you to fuck me, Dean, please.” His voice is rough – from want and just pure lust.  
“Such a bottom bitch, Sam,” Dean is just saying his brother’s name to feel it on his lips, feel how sweet it sounds in conjunction with sex. His jeans rest tight on his thighs, boxers shoved down and hand rapidly moving, framing every contour. His other hand is digging into his thighs to leave little sweet crescents – as if half-moon shapes could hold him back. “Aren’t you?”  
  
“Yes, yes!” Sam’s voice is a gasp, punctuating now constant noises. A moan – a real one, bubbles up from his throat and releases throaty and loud and with little warning Dean’s voice joins it in a simultaneous groan. “Dean – I’m, ahhn, g-going to cum, please. Please. Dean, I’m—”  
  
Dean cuts him off once more, voice gravelly. “No – hh, not until I t-tell you. Tell me what you’re doing, Sam.” He himself was spreadlegged, shirt hiked up above his nipples, shoulders red and chest fluttering and flushed. One hand rubs lazily over his chest while the other hand grips his dick, thumb sliding over the slit and smearing a small dribble of precum. When he got no response, Dean growled low under his breath, “Sammy. Sam. I, ha, swear to God, if you don’t make some noise I will hang up this ffffuh – fucking call right now.” His voice drops even lower as he licks his lips, slowly fisting his cock. “Come on, babe, show how much me you w-want me.”  
  
Sam doesn’t say even a word, but his plain noises speak louder than any of his words could: he does start panting louder, trying to bite back noises but moans and groans and whimpers all slipping out regardless. Under his breath, a chant of DeanDeanDeanDean has begun as he jacks off, occasionally catching his breath to swallow and beg Dean – to cum, to just please. His moans were throaty, but his whimpers were almost whining as he’d scratch trails of red up his thighs. Dean kept saying that Sam’s such a desperate whore, so desperate to be touched and fucked by his brother, how he’s sick and that’s so so great, and it’s just getting Sam harder and more lustful by the passing second.  
  
After what seems like hours of shared moans and whispers and wishes, Dean moans and chokes out a shaky ‘yes, yes, Sam’, and groans deep and long into the hot interior of the Impala. In the car, his back is arching heavily and his eyes are shut tight over visions of Sam coming on himself as he himself comes on his bare stomach until he’s nothing but a shuddering mess, panting heavily. Sam is still groaning, biting back louder moans and Dean just listens, listens, as he eventually falls off the precipice that is climax and whimpers brokenly through his rasping throat.  
  
  
Ten shuddering, glowing minutes, give or take, and they’re breathing like mostly normal human beings as they claw their ways out of the afterglow, and Dean’s already speeding back on the road to their dinky motel in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. “Sam?” Dean says, looking at his vaguely shaking hand.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I’m fucking you when I get there.”  
  
“I figured.”

  



End file.
